Russia's Little Princess
by Hmob1994
Summary: After the events of Bloody Sunday, Russia slowly lost his mind as more and more distrust was felt towards the Tsar. However, there was five children who he loved as if they were his own.  Inspired by the Grand Duchess of Russia, Anastasia.


**A NOTE FROM ME! **Only my second Hetalia fanfic, this time based on Russia. I might do a series of these, on different countries, eg, France and Joan of Arc, or England and Elizabeth 1st (Or maybe queen Victoria.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**Russia's Little Princess**

~September 1915~

Russia didn't know exactly when the problem started. The Great War was probably having a large part of it, and the fact that the country was being run by a political imbecile. Years from now he would listen to self-righteous historians as they dissected his past. All he knew was that the first time Russia even knew there was a problem was when _that_ man arrived.

With his greasy, long hair and beard and sharp features, it didn't take a genius to know Rasputin (1) wasn't… _normal. _Hell, unless you weren't the Tsar's family, or in Rasputin's disgustingly wide harem, you knew that the man was not good news for the country. The Tsarina, of course, adored him. And why wouldn't she, Russia thought, looking at the woman's youngest child and only son. Just three years ago the young boy had been weak and frail, unable to lift an arm, much less play with his older sisters, as he was doing now. However, with the presence of Rasputin, Alexei was growing stronger.

"God has seen your tear's and heard your prayers…" Russia mumbled under his breath, repeating the same words Rasputin had written in a letter to the Tsarina three years ago.

"Russia?" Russia turned, and smiled gently at the slightly chubby face of the Tsar's youngest daughter, Anastasia.

"I'm sorry, shvibzik (2), I didn't hear you, what were you saying?" He asked. Russia was infamous within the other nations for having a cruel disposition, but he treated the royal children with nothing but love. Anastasia pouted.

"Father's been calling for you." She said, grabbing the countries hand with her own. In the end, she had to settle for holding his smallest finger. She tugged on it impatiently, and Russia stood up, letting the girl lead him towards the Tsar's office. She saw him off with a mischievous smile, before running away down the corridor as Russia turned to confront his boss.

Russia stared at the Tsar in shock.

"Your highness, do you really think that's a good idea?" He asked. The Tsar planned to lead the Russian forces in the Great War, _personally_. Up till them, the government had been able to pin the poor conditions and even worse tactics on the Tsar not being told about them. Throughout the entire Russian force, soldier's loyalty to the Tsar was bought by the sentence, 'If only he knew'. If the Tsar actively joined the fighting, then that would all be proved wrong.

"I do." The Tsar answered curtly, standing up. "I merely called you here to inform you, not to ask for your advice." Recognizing the dismissal, Russia stood, saluted, and exited. Deep in thought, he didn't notice the small girl waiting for him until she called his name.

"Russia?" Once more, Russia looked down at Anastasia, and forced a smile on his face. Anastasia returned the smile, but it was wiped off her face when she heard her Matron calling her name. Russia smiled.

"Hiding again? Is it time for your massage?" (3) He asked. Anastasia frowned, and nodded. Looking around, Russia held open his great long trench coat.

"Quick, shvibzik." He instructed. Anastasia lost no time, ducking under the coat. No sooner had Russia secured his coat then the matron bustled around the corner. She stopped when she saw Russia.

"Mr. Russia!" She greeted. "Have you seen Nastya?" (4) She asked. Smiling mildly, Russia shook his head, and the Matron hurried past him on her search for the elusive girl. Inside his coat, Anastasia giggled.

~March 1922~

Russia looked calm on the outside, but on the inside he was a thunderous snowstorm of anticipation, worry, excitement and hope. A woman claiming to be the Lost Princess Anastasia had recently made her way into the public's interest. She wasn't the first to claim this, but that didn't stop Russia from hoping, _praying_ it to be the truth this time. After all, the girl who he grew so close to hadn't been found buried with her parents when their supporters tracked down and uncovered their bodies. There was still the chance that she was still out there, living as happily as she could in these times. The door opened, and Russia looked up. With one glance, his hopes were once again crushed. This woman had the same strawberry blonde hair and striking blue eyes, the same slight chubbiness, the same hidden limp, but the brightness, the energy, that infamous mischievous… all of it was missing. This woman wasn't Anastasia. (5)

Without granting the woman even a polite nod, Russia stood and left. He was wasting his time there.

~March 2009~

Russia stared at the paper in his hand. So, that was it. All those years of convincing himself that Anastasia and Alexei had survived, shattered with a bit of ink and paper. (6)

It was a ridiculous hope, anyway. None of the Royal children had the best physical health, and the years following the upheaval of the Tsarist Regime would have been extremely taxing on the two children, had they survived. Still, knowing that he, Russia, hadn't acted in their defense, hadn't stuck with the royal family, was… was…

"Oi." Russia looked up, but didn't bother standing up when he saw America standing over him. Sighing, America sat next to the icy nation.

"You know…" America started, as he fished a hamburger from god only knew where. "It hurts to get close to humans. Just look at France and that woman, what's-her-name…"

"Jeanne d'arc." Russia answered, not looking at the super-nation. America waved his hand as if dismissing the name as he bit into the hamburger.

"'Eah. 'Er." Swallowing, he continued. "But that doesn't mean you can't get close to us countries." Russia looked at him then, but didn't say anything. America cleared his throat.

"Not that I like you, or anything." He said, standing up. "You're still a dirty commie, after all." Russia watched as the other country walked away.

"But I'm not a Communist state anymore…" He pointed out.

**A NOTE FROM ME! **(1) Rasputin was extremely close to the russian royal family and had huge sway over the Tsarina, due to the fact he supposedly cured the youngest child and heir to the throne of a genetic disease called Hemophilia. At the time, Hemophilia shouldn't have been curable, which has led to speculation that Rasputin really did have 'Holy powers'. However, as people outside the family did not know of the Heir's disease, they were suspicous of his closeness to the family. Rasputin was famous for his less-then-holy deeds, such as orgies and black magic rituals. Kind of like modern day rock stars... XP  
(2) shvibzik = imp in russian, and an actually nickname for Anastasia. One family friend actually said "in naughtiness she was a true genius".  
(3) Anastasia had a weak muscle in her back, and so received massages twice a week, which she would try to delay by hiding.  
(4) Another nickname for Anastasia. Infact, Anastasia was very rarely called by her proper title, even by the servents of the family.  
(5) There was various Anastasia imposters after it was revealed she and her brother hadn't been buried with her family. The one I'm referring to here was a Prussian born woman who had an extensive history of mental illness and was one of the more famous imposters called Anna Anderson. Who else isn't surprised she was Prussian? XD  
(6) Sadly, in March 2009, American scientists proved Anastasia and her brother hadn't survived, and was merely buried in a different spot.

Wow! Actual research! XD aw, poor Russia...

Please review!


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